Your Last Cigarette
by sinemoras09
Summary: An endless line of cracked black asphalt and sun-bleached clay. Ellie x Casey. Angst.


_Author's Note: just to clear up some confusion - this fills in a scene from Reflections of Another Life, which is a series of drabbles in which Ellie is the Intersect instead of Chuck._

.

.

There's a silo just east of the road; Ellie has a flash and they pull over, opening the car doors and stepping outside. Around them, there's nothing but detritus and a battered stop sign, newspaper and dust blowing around their feet. Ellie crouches in the dirt, at a loss. "I don't understand," Ellie says. "I flashed. He's here, I know it."

Thunder rolls, the clouds dark and thick with the threat of rain. Casey squints. "There's nothing here," Casey says. "We should get going."

Ellie's face wrenches. Casey touches her arm.

"Hey," Casey says. He shakes her a little. "Bartowski! Hey."

Ellie looks up. Wind and dust stings her eyes.

"We'll find him," Casey says. His voice is firm. "I promise."

Ellie nods, and gets back in the car.

xXx

.

The air is sticky and humid, and even though it's threatening rain it's still hot outside, waves of heat rising from the road.

The air conditioning is broken, so Ellie rolls down the windows to the car. Pieces of hair stick flat to her forehead; her clothes stick on her too, and almost unconsciously she picks off the fabric from her skin. Beside her, Casey drives, eyes fixed on the road. Neither of them speak.

It's been nearly two days since the two of them left the Castle; Sarah promised she would hold down the fort, distracting the General and doing what she can to help them with their search. "I know why you're doing this," Sarah said, gripping Ellie's hands. "I'll do what I can, but I can't promise you you'll be safe. You're disobeying a direct order--"

"I know," Ellie said. "But he's my father. I can't let it go."

And Sarah nodded and gripped her hands again, glancing up at Casey and nodding wordlessly.

The road stretches out in front of them, an endless line of cracked black asphalt and sun-bleached clay. "How much longer?" Ellie asks.

"It's hard to say." Casey doesn't look at her. Like Ellie, he's disobeyed a direct order; this from a man who always put duty before everything else. "Have you flashed on anything?"

"No," Ellie says. "Not yet."

And Casey drives, because that's all that's left to do.

xXx

.

They drive for what seems like years, and even though Ellie was the one who plotted the course, it's as if they have no real destination. In the closed equability of the car, Ellie begins to lose track of time, falling asleep, then waking up, then falling asleep again.

It's late when it finally starts raining. The rain drums against the windshield, but one of the wiper blades is broken; it drags uselessly against the glass. Water sluices down the windshield and distorts the road ahead of them, and Casey has to squint to see. Ellie glances over and frowns.

"You look tired," Ellie says, and Casey glances toward her. "Maybe you should pull over."

"I'm fine," Casey says.

"You sure? I can drive," Ellie says. Casey shakes his head.

"You need to concentrate; you can't be driving if you flash," Casey says.

"I guess you're right," Ellie says. She rests her head against the glass. She watches the rain and cars streaking past them, the bright yellow light of their headbeams cutting through the dark. "Where are we going now?" Ellie says. Casey shifts in his seat.

"We're looking for a place to stay," Casey says. "Keep your eyes open; there should be some motels by the side of the road."

Ellie is struck by how serious he's being. Even now, even after going rogue, there's still a mission. "Why are you doing this?" Ellie asks.

"Because you could flash; I told you," Casey says. "Besides, it's raining and these wipers are terrible. No offense, Bartowski, but I think I'm probably the better driver."

"No, not why are you driving. Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" Ellie says. Casey takes a moment before answering.

"I'm helping you because your father served this country honorably, and I think he deserves better than our government is offering," Casey says.

"But you're disobeying orders," Ellie says. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Why? Does it bother you?" Casey asks.

"Yes," Ellie says. "Yes, Casey, it does. Because before this, you were off flying jets and doing what you were told." Ellie watches for a response. But Casey's face is a mask; everything's carefully controlled. "I was wondering if this had to do with us," Ellie says, quietly. Casey's jaw clenches.

"Bartowski, there is no 'us.' I'm your handler; you'd go searching for your father with or without me, so I'm just here protecting the asset," Casey says.

Ellie says nothing. She watches the shadows crossing Casey's face, reflections from the rain outside. She presses her hand to her eyes and sags.

xXx

.

Around 2 AM, they see a ramshackle motel at the edge of the road, its neon vacancy sign still on. They check in under pseudonyms and hike their bags into the room, which is dingy and gray and smelling slightly like cigarettes. There's a bowl of condoms at the bedside and a dusty ashtray filled with gum wrappers and cigarette butts. And there, at the very center of the room, is a single bed; it stares at them as if in rebuke.

"I can take the floor," Ellie says, ruefully.

"No, you're a woman. I'll take the floor," Casey says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ellie asks. Casey grunts.

"You want to take the floor? Fine. Take the floor," Casey says. He throws his stuff down and sits on the bed.

Ellie stares. Finally she yanks out an extra bedsheet and spreads it out onto the carpet. Casey rises and grabs it from her. "Hey!" Ellie says.

"You're not sleeping on the floor, it's disgusting. It's covered in semen and cigarette butts," Casey says.

Ellie glowers. "Why are you even here?" Ellie asks.

"I told you. I'm helping your father," Casey says.

"Bullshit," Ellie says. She watches Casey pull off his boots. "Casey, talk to me."

Casey glares and tosses a boot.

"Fine," Ellie says. "Neither of us get the floor."

She watches him on the bed. Casey says nothing. He stares out at the wall.

"I'm going to take a shower," Ellie says. "Then I'm going to sleep. If you just wanna keep sitting here pissed off, that's your prerogative. I'm going to bed."

xXx

.

Casey is still sitting at the foot of the bed when Ellie gets out of the shower. Wordlessly, she snaps off the light and climbs under the covers.

A few moments pass. The bed sinks beside her and she feels Casey climbing into bed.

Neither of them speak. They fall asleep.

xXx

.

A watery light filters through the dingy room, and Ellie wakes to the feel of Casey's face pressed against her neck. She shifts slightly. His arm is around her waist, and when she moves, he tightens his grip, breathing deep and pressing her against his chest. He feels warm. Ellie sighs and settles against him, pulling his hand to her face.

Time passes; soon a thin square of light falls on Ellie's face. She blinks, then opens her eyes. Casey is still holding her. Slowly, Ellie turns and faces him. Casey's eyes open. They watch each other for what seem like years before Ellie reaches up and kisses him softly on the mouth.

The springs creak when Ellie moves to straddle him on his lap, pushing him down against the shabby mattress. The air is cold and stale and her hair falls over her face in a tangled curtain, but he feels warm and good and she shudders slightly, a muted rush of pleasure building up at the base of her spine. She arches up, and he dips his head and presses his face against the curve of her belly, day-old stubble scraping against her skin.

Ellie groans, and he rolls her onto her back. He's kissing her mouth, her neck, traces a line from her lips to the hollow over her collarbone, the spaces behind her ear. Calloused hands drag up her shirt and expose her breasts, and he's kissing there too, hot mouth on hard nipples; she gathers her fingers in his hair and moans as he dips lower, his mouth tracing the curve of her belly and between her legs.

"Oh!" Ellie throws her head back as he nurses her clit, her muscles beginning to clench. "_Oh_!"

She comes hard, gasping and spasming against him. Her voice is hoarse and she's shaking slightly, and suddenly Casey's shoving her down, kissing her hard and gathering her in his arms. His mouth collides against hers; his hands press greedily against her skin. The movements are frantic now, hungry, desperate. He spreads her roughly open and her knees knock into the sides of his ribs. She feels him at her entrance; his breath hitches in his throat. He's trying not to hurt her.

"Just do it," Ellie rasps. "Casey, please--"

Casey takes a breath, and in one swift movement penetrates her. Ellie gasps; it's too much, too fast, _oh god_ it feels good, she claws her hands against his back. "Don't stop, don't stop," she says, and he buries his face against her shoulder as he pushes back inside of her.

xXx

.

Ellie sits at the edge of the bed and watches him wash his face in the bathroom sink, jaw tight and avoiding her eyes. On the bed, Ellie is still naked, the bedsheet wrapped tightly around her. There's a wet spot on the mattress and it makes her feel ashamed.

They dress in silence. Casey zips up his duffel bag and throws it against the chair. "Are you gonna talk to me?" Ellie says, finally, and for the first time Casey looks haggard; worn. "Casey, please. Say something."

"You know what I'm going to say." He pulls on a shirt and sits heavily on the bed. "I'm your handler," Casey says. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Ellie tightens her jaw. Tears begin to sting her eyes. "So you're going to leave?" Ellie's voice breaks.

"No, of course not." Casey moves closer. "I promised you I'd help you find your father. I wouldn't go back on my word."

"No, of course you won't," Ellie says. "But what about us?"

Silence meets with silence. Casey looks up at her with dark eyes. "There can't _be_ an us," Casey says, and Ellie starts to cry.

"Bartowski--"

"My name is _Ellie_!" Ellie says, and she starts to sob. "You've already broken the rules, why should this one matter? _Why_?"

Bartowski! Bartowkski, listen to me." Casey grasps Ellie's wrists. "Ellie."

Ellie looks up. Her face is tear-streaked and blotchy. "I care about you," Casey says. "But it's like Stockholm Syndrome, Bartowski. It's time and it's proximity and it's everything Sarah said except that I took advantage of you. If it weren't for the Intersect, you'd be with Devon and Chuck and you'd have a life of your own--"

"No," Ellie says. "No, Casey that's not true--"

"It is," Casey says. He grips her hands, tight. "I'll help you find your father," Casey says. "And if what he says is true, if he can take away the Intersect, I'm not going to get in the way of that. You deserve a life of your own, Bartowski. You deserve a life where you won't _need_ me."

"Casey." Ellie's throat tightens. "Casey please."

There's wetness around the corners of Casey's eyes, but otherwise his face is a mask; his jaw is tight.

"We're burning daylight," Casey says, finally. "Let's go find your father."

* * *

**A/N: I'm really enjoying writing Ellie/Casey fic; I didn't start off shipping them together--it kind of just came about organically after I wrote "Reflections of Another Life", but yeah. w00t.**


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